


At the Ballet

by Dragonbat



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics)
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonbat/pseuds/Dragonbat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barbara finds a way to introduce Cass to a classic fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Ballet

**Author's Note:**

> "At the Ballet", written by Edward Kleban and Marvin Hamlisch. Recorded by Carole Bishop, Nancy Lane and Kay Cole on the _A Chorus Line_ soundtrack album (Sony, 1975).
> 
> Context/Timeline: _Once upon a time, not long after the end of the No Man's Land, there lived a telepath whose life was saved by a maiden who was kind of heart but heavy and weak of tongue. In gratitude, the telepath granted maiden the gift of language. However, he did not have the opportunity to teach her how to use this wondrous gift, for his enemies rose once more to destroy him and this time, they succeeded. The maiden was much distressed, not only by the loss of her new friend, but also because she knew that her new talent would be difficult to master on her own..._  
> 

_Mother always said I'd be very attractive_  
When I grew up, when I grew up.  
"Diff'rent," she said, "With a special something  
And a very, very personal flair."  
And though I was eight or nine,  
Though I was eight or nine,  
Though I was eight or nine,  
I hated her... 

_Edward Kleban, "At the Ballet"_

 

Cass blinked at Barbara. "Why?" she demanded, her voice caught between irritation and dismay.

"I-I thought you'd enjoy it," Barbara replied. "It's a classic."

Cass shook her head. "Stories," she said, the one word somehow conveying enough scorn for an entire monologue. "Silly." She waved an impatient hand at the two rectangles of heavy paper in Barbara's hand and sighed. "Boring."

"How do you know?" Barbara asked, trying not to match Cass' irritation with a wave of her own. "You've never even seen a ballet."

This was true. Still... "Seen movies," Cass shot back. "All talk no action. Or all action no point."

There were some times when she wished that telepath had never reordered her thoughts. When she hadn't understood the meanings of words, she had used gestures out of necessity and been understood. Now, she had the vocabulary, but articulation came harder. If she'd had a fraction of Barbara's computer savvy, she might have described her sudden grasp of English as 'data-dumping'. It was as though someone had downloaded a dictionary into her brain, but neglected syntax and context. She knew what she wanted to say, but there was a disconnect between the thoughts she meant to convey and the words her tongue seemed to know. She understood hand-eye coordination. Was there also such a thing as mind-mouth coordination? If so, she had something wrong with hers.

She tried again. "Action movies... mean... cars explode. Or shooting. Fights are... fake. Actors change in middle. Stupid." As stupid as she knew she sounded. She could tell by the way her friends frowned when she tried to speak. Less-polite people had smirked, or even laughed, before she'd decided against practicing her English outside of the small circle of people who knew her. Whatever Barbara had to show her was going to be one more thing she wouldn't understand, one more thing to make her recognize how different she was. _Different_. Unbidden, her mind threw up synonyms: _freak, unlike, aberrant, flaky, anomalous, irregular._ So many different words and each one widened the gulf between herself and the others.

"Those are movies," Barbara said, smiling. "Ballet is _dance_."

Cass blinked. "Dance?" That didn't sound as bad, she had to admit.

"Here," Barbara motioned to Cass to take a seat in front of one of the large monitors beside her. "Maybe watching a video will help. And if you really don't like it," she continued, "I'll find someone else to go with tomorrow night.

"Computer," she ordered, "Run program Sleeping Beauty One."

She wheeled a bit closer to Cass. "Ballet uses dance and music to tell a story," she explained, as the first notes of the overture came over the speakers. "But if it's not clear, we can go over it together, now. They usually tell you what it's about," she added, "because most audiences are... well, roughly where you are with movies: they see what's going on, and sort of understand, but they aren't completely sure they really get it." She grinned. "They see too much movement like you see-"

"-Too much talk," Cass cut her off. "Listen."

Barbara exhaled a short explosion of breath. "Excuse _me_ ," she said tartly. Then she settled back in her chair, to divide her attention between the ballet and Cass' reaction to it.

Cass sat transfixed as the curtain rose on the prologue. The opening, to be fair, didn't really impress her. Obviously, they were celebrating the appearance of a... doll? Oh. Of course. Real babies might cry. Naturally they would use a dummy instead. The dancing was beautiful, but she didn't see how it was telling a story. There was a baby and they were dancing. She wondered why many of the costumes had gauzy wings attached at the back. Those of the lady in the lilac dress were more elaborate than the others. Still, as she watched the dancing, she realized that one of the other players, a lady in silver, with a touch of black peeking out below the hemline, was moving differently from the others. She was graceful, but there was a sinewy sensuousness to her dance, which was absent in the motions of the other players. _Different, anomalous, unlike..._ there had to be more to her than met the eye at first glance. She settled back to watch the performance, but kept her eye on the lady in silver.

Cass wasn't at all surprised when the music changed, and the woman shed her silver gown. She was wearing a dress of blood red and black underneath, with orange streaks that made her look like a darkly glowing flame. "Who?" she whispered.

"Carabosse," Barbara replied, "the wicked fairy everyone forgot to invite to the party."

"Forgot?" Cass asked ironically. "They wanted her?"

Barbara laughed at that. "Well, probably more like 'didn't want her to hurt the baby'. Watch."

"Am."

'Carabosse' was almost as good at pantomime as she herself was, Cass reflected. She had no problem understanding that the baby would one day hurt her finger and die, although she needed Barbara to explain that it wouldn't happen for another sixteen years. Still, when the curtain came down at the end of the first act, Cass realized that she actually had understood most of the story.

She turned to Barbara. "That all?"

"No, there are another two acts." The orchestra started playing again.

"Oh." Her face fell. "Only two?"

Barbara smiled broadly. "I thought you'd enjoy this."

She grinned back. "Yes. Only..."

"What?"

Her smile dropped. "Is different always... bad?"

Barbara frowned. "How do you... oh! You mean the way Carabosse stood out? No, not always. Maybe after this, I'll show you _The Nutcracker_. And _Peter Pan_ —I wish that one was performed more often. I always did have a bit of a soft spot for Wendy... oh, it's starting again," she said, dropping her voice to a whisper as the entr'acte concluded and the curtain rose on act two.

Cass nodded. 'Different' didn't only mean 'bad'. It could also mean 'unique', 'individual', 'distinct'... _one of a kind_. She liked the sound of that. She leaned forward, and, like a small child, rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, and watched eagerly for the rest of the story to unfold.


End file.
